


what could have been

by gudetama (elementary)



Series: Prompt stuff [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Animagus, Aurors, M/M, Original Character(s), bear!Theseus, cat!Percival, fanon!Theseus, hero!Theseus, villain!Percival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 04:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementary/pseuds/gudetama
Summary: In which I not-so-lowkey ship Theseus and Percival, too





	1. bearseus and catcival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I fantastically lost the post this was inspired by but it had something to do with basically Theseus being a bear animagus and Percival being a cat one (Maine Coon) and my mind went down a shipping route at the time

In the great Woolworth building at the heart of New York City, there resides a community of unusual folk hidden from the eyes of the general public; the magical sort, capable of producing a special kind of energy unquantifiable according to the laws of physics, capable of possibilities beyond the plausible. The Magical Congress of USA acts as a governing body to these folks to ensure the safety and secrecy of their kind and as such, employees of MACUSA encounter all types of situations, become accustomed to unnatural sights.

Yet, there are some things, from time to time, that still catch them off guard.

Mainly…

“Director Graves, I’ve come to—”

Auror Schmidt halts inside the doorway, breath caught, the door he opened and failed to hold onto continuing its arc until it taps against the doorstopper. An ear twitches on the giant mound of brown fur on the floor just to the side of the room, and the head of a predator three times his size lifts to stare at him. Schmidt’s mouth flaps open and closed, voice stuck on a wheeze in a tightened throat.

“B-b-be-beh—”

A hand closes over his mouth and pulls so that he stumbles back, a voice hushing him just by his ear. Auror Goldstein’s face appears as she pokes past him through the door, heedless of his warning cries muffled by another’s hand.

“Mr. Scamander, sorry about that,” she says  _to the bear_. “Is he alright?”

The bear rumbles and moves one of its paws and Schmidt is certain it’s going to strike Goldstein.

“Oh, that’s good,” she says, sounding relieved.

It’s only a glimpse, but Schmidt recognizes the top of a familiar head of hair tucked into the bear’s side, the rest of the body hidden away behind the massive furry one from this angle. The bear puts its paw down again and hides Director Graves from view.

“Thank you, please let him know everything is being handled,” and with that, she scoots them backwards and closes the door.

The hand finally releases him.

“Really, I step away for one second,” Ms. Kett sighs, revealing the owner of the hand.

Schmidt turns around to face the two ladies. “Did you just call him ‘Scamander’?” His voice comes out steadier than expected though his hearts still pounds away.

“We’ll explain later,” Goldstein mutters, hooks her arm around his and marches them back to their room.

 

 

It’s too warm, and that’s what wakes him. A slow pull towards wakefulness, floating just on the cusp of conscious thought. The heat is strong at his back, sinks in softly when he wiggles against it and it responds with a small shake of its own.

“Thes?” Percival croaks out, throat dry.

Something—the snout, he belatedly realizes—nudges against his neck, snuffles at his hair. It tickles, making him smile. The huff of hot breath that follows is not so pleasant, however. Percival kicks the blanket off of himself and immediately shivers at the first hit of cooler air. With a groan, he rolls onto his stomach and lifts up on his elbows and knees, then pushes back his hips into a kneel while simultaneously stretching his arms forward along the floor, arching his back. He lets loose another groan in both pain and satisfaction at the stretch of his spine before sitting up fully.

There’s a cup of water just near where he had been lying and he drinks it gratefully. After he puts down the empty glass, he flops over onto Theseus’s back. Theseus snorts and twists his head around to watch. Large, dark eyes different from the man’s usual blue blink slowly at him, and they share a moment of calm gazing that Percival savours like the slow burning slide of a good whiskey. The fur is coarse beneath his cheek but Percival likes it just fine, grabbing at it with both hands and letting it brush through his fingers.

“What time’s it,” he mumbles sleepily even though he won’t get a verbal answer.

A glance at the clock on the adjacent wall reveals that it’s long past work hours and it has him frowning, tugging hard on the fur.

“I told you to wake me in an hour, damn bear.”

But his eyes are already sliding closed again, the combination of exhaustion accumulated from the last difficult case he worked and the heat radiating from Theseus’s body tempting his weakened will.

“Should finish that report,” Percival slurs, then shuts his eyes.

 

 

Schmidt watches warily as the bear lumbers by, tenses in readiness to catch should the director slide off it. Admittedly, the man looks quite comfortable in sleep atop the bear’s back like he’s used to doing so on a moving animal. As they slowly disappear towards the exit, he thinks that this has to be the strangest thing he has ever seen in his history with the director.

 

 

Theseus wakes to a familiar, dreadful sound and glances over to the source, huffs in annoyance. “Percival, you stop that right this instance.”

Honestly, he doesn’t know why he even bothers at this point because of course Percival won’t listen; he never does when he’s like this. The sound of fabric tearing continues followed by a defiant  _meow_  and a haughty tail-flick. Thank Merlin for restoration spells otherwise he’d be throwing away money on a regular basis trying to replace furniture and clothes.

Today, Percival’s target is one of his jumpers, claws digging and cutting into the yarn while his stupidly long fur gets all over as he rubs himself on it. Sometimes it’s a scent thing, sometimes it’s an arse thing; it’s hard to tell which.

“No tuna for you,” Theseus threatens calmly, has to hold back an amused grin when that furry little head perks up.

Percival makes a plaintive noise, glances between him and the shredded fabric as if in a dilemma. Which doesn’t last long at all. The brat resumes scratching at the yarn because he’s the one cat who can never be lured with food unless it’s coffee.

Theseus sighs long and low, spends a moment silently mourning his ruined sleep-in. He then hops out of bed and scoops up the cat off the floor, ignoring the fierce yowl of displeasure and carries him out of the room. He gets a couple smacks from the tail for his troubles but holds on despite Percival’s struggles. Once in the kitchen, he places him down on the counter and immediately holds him in place by the head. Percival freezes when fingers stroke over the crown and scratch around the ears, tension draining like ice melts in the sun and soon Theseus has a puddle of contentment beneath his hands. He kisses a whiskered cheek then the forehead, little furs soft against his mouth, feels Percival press into it.

“Good morning,” he whispers, making eye contact, looking into lighter browns than the human ones.

Percival’s eyes close and he mewls, a paw coming up to keep Theseus’s hand where it is. More scratches, then. It takes a while before the cat is satisfied and lets him go to start breakfast, but Theseus can’t complain about an adorable, affectionate thing asking for his attention.

 

 

A cat has been meandering through the department and so far, no one has mentioned anything about the strangeness of it. They either greet it briefly or ignore it altogether, working away at their desks. Most everyone is obviously accustomed to its presence. But it’s Amelia’s first time seeing it and she’s curious, only having caught glimpses and wonders where the stray—judging by its lack of a collar—came from. It’s also surprising in that Director Graves allows it because surely he must know; the man cares a great deal about cleanliness and organization, and stray animal is about as far from the concept as it gets.

She makes a note to ask someone when they aren’t so busy.

But then a few minutes later, the cat is approaching her desk in its wandering and upon closer look, it’s quite beautiful with a soft, healthy sheen to its fur. It actually seems well taken care of, clearly used to having humans around if the way it stares at them and goes about winding through legs is any indication.

“Hello, there,” Amelia calls out softly.

The cat reacts to the sound of her voice, looks at her from a couple feet away. It bobs its head as if nodding in acknowledgement and it’s rather adorable. It comes closer and once it reaches her feet, it rubs the long line of its body against her leg. A sign of possession, she recognizes, and it makes her feel giddy that it wants to be friendly with her. The cat moves along and she stands up, wanting to give it a pet. But then a large shadow suddenly passes over and Amelia shrieks when she sees, a great beast making its way past her— _how did it get in here unnoticed?_ —and leaning down, snatching up the cat in its jaw.

“Oh my god—” she starts to pull out her wand

“Perkins.”

Amelia spins around, faces Senior Auror Fontaine behind her. “Sir! We need to—”

“Were you not at the orientation for Juniors?” he asks, interrupting.

Amelia is thrown off by the sudden question, blinks in confusion. “I, uh…” she glances back, the bear having moved further on and thankfully, no blood trailing in its wake. And no one is doing anything, not even looking. She turns again, a bit shocked at how surreal this seems. “No, sir; I was sick that time.”

Mr. Fontaine nods as if that answers everything. It doesn’t for Amelia.

“Right. Do you have a moment to spare, then?” he asks. “I’ll explain what’s happening.”

What can possibly explain what she just saw? But Amelia nods, still. “Yes, sir.”

 

 

“I hate it when you do that,” is the first thing Percival grumbles as soon as he turns back.

The bear watches passively as he cleans disgusting, thick saliva from his clothes with a wave of his hand. Then the next thing he knows, he’s being pressed into the sofa with Theseus, human again, looming over him.

“I hate it when you do that,” the man repeats, clearly referring to something different.

“Your jealousy is showing,” Percival drawls. “I couldn’t help it; she’s completely new, so—”

Theseus cuts him off with a kiss, a hard press of the mouth unlike the hand that gently cups the side of his neck, unlike the fingers that flick behind his ear. It’s easy to be coaxed open in this state when his feline instincts are still closer to the surface than not, drawing the human equivalent of a purr from his throat. He curls a hand onto Theseus’ shoulder, the other winding around his neck to pull him closer. Percival nips at the lower lip and soothes a tongue over it, hears a low rumble in response.

It has him smiling and thinking that this isn’t such a bad way to start the morning. Perhaps not as good as a cup of coffee, but good enough.

“Stop thinking,” Theseus murmurs against his lips.

And this time, Percival listens.


	2. catsitting can be heroic too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this prompt](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/146742) on pillowfort: The villain leaves their pet to the care of the hero for the weekend because they are the most responsible person they know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea of this hero/villain rivalry between these two and sexy tension so

“What the fu—” Theseus shuts his mouth with a snap at the fierce glare he receives.

“Language,” says Percival Graves.

 _Percival Graves,_  CEO of Graves Corps. (bloody ominous), the normal-person ego (if he can even be called normal) of Theseus's arch-nemesis,  _The Dark Wizard_. Who is currently standing at Theseus's door with what looks like a pet carrier in his hand. A look behind the man shows a pretentiously expensive black car parked in his lot with no other driver, surprisingly. The clearing of a throat catches his attention.

“So—”

“Wait,” Theseus interrupts as the situation suddenly hits him, looks the man up and down in disbelief. “What are you doing—no, how do you know where I live? Isn’t this some sort of code violation? Aren’t we keeping personal lives out of this?”

“Shut up, Scamander,” Graves snaps, appearing rather unimpressed. “This is an emergency. As for how I knew, there are resources—”

“ _Code violation_ , you bastard—”

“—and I need... your help.”

Theseus stops in shock at hearing those words. “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Graves is apparently too proper to roll his eyes but his expression at the moment is a close thing. “Let me in, please.”

Again shocked by the show of manners, Theseus moves without thinking. Graves steps in and lets down the carrier (emitting a strange noise) next to the entrance, then turns to grab other diaper-bag-looking bags that Theseus is just noticing. He lays them all by the carrier and straightens up.

God, he’s pretty, Theseus thinks in a brief moment of insanity. It’s different seeing him properly this up close in the daylight, unarmoured but suited up all the same.

And then Graves starts talking, something about a business trip and his precious, about feeding, grooming, exercising, and playing with toys. By the time Theseus wraps his head around everything, Graves is about to step out the door and he grabs the man’s wrist in an instinctive move.

“You can’t be serious,” Theseus blurts out, glancing from the man to the carrier which he now knows contains a cat, also known as Graves’ Most Treasured. “Why me? We’re  _enemies_ , how do you know that I won't—”

“You’re a good man,” Graves says in a way that indicates he’s very serious, and Theseus isn’t sure how to take that. “The very best I know; you prove it to me on a regular basis. Therefore, I trust you to be responsible for this innocent animal that has nothing to do with what's between us and is important to me.”

Shit, his heart may have skipped.

“Bloody hell, man,” Theseus says, incredulous.

Graves pulls his hand away. “Watch your mouth, at least for the duration of her stay,” he warns.

Theseus narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “Oh, as if  _your_  language is completely devoid of vulgarity? I couldn't tell at all from that night last week.”

The slight flush in Graves' cheeks makes him grin, and perhaps a little bit warm under the collar in remembrance. It had been an accident, really, tensions rising between them as they repeated the dance of antagonism and heroism, and finally releasing in a way that neither quite expected.

(Or they had, but pretended not to have noticed the other brewing tension alongside it.)

Indeed, Theseus recalls the not-so-appropriate words that were screamed amongst the begging to  _go harder, faster_ —

“I'm going to break you in half if you don't wipe that grin off your idiotic face.”

Ah, there's that usual, wonderful attitude.

“You might miss your flight,” Theseus says.

Graves shoots him a scathing look, then sighs. “Take care of her, please.”

And something in Theseus softens a little at the sincere request. “Of course.”

He almost turns around as Graves kneels down to say goodbye to his cat, the affection in his tone and gestures almost too intimate for him to look upon. At the same time, it’s a strange, flattering thing to be trusted like this.

Graves leaves with a final nod to Theseus, and he can't help but watch the man drive away until he disappears.

After he closes the door, Newt’s head appears around the corner and he barely stops himself from jumping.

“Who was that?” Newt asks as he approaches.

“Uh...”

Thankfully, he's saved from answering because his brother, of course, is immediately distracted by the furry four-legged thing, cooing at it. In true animal-whisperer fashion, the cat rubs up against the carrier door and licks at Newt’s fingers.

Well, at least he’ll have excellent support for the next few days.

 

 

(On the Sunday evening after the business trip, the smile with which Graves thanks him as he picks up his cat strikes Theseus somewhere uncomfortably deep.

He decides not to examine it too closely.)


End file.
